


Caged Bird

by lovelytomeetyou



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Birds, Drama, History, M/M, Rain, Revolutionary War, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelytomeetyou/pseuds/lovelytomeetyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need your guidance, not your dominance!" Those words stabbed his caretaker and America knew it. This was his worst fight with England, one that might separate them forever. "And even so... I choose independence." UsUk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My first multichapter story published. The pairing featured is UsUk.

"Okay, that's it!" The blond with unruly hair and sapphire eyes marched into the room, fuming, while being followed by a shorter blond with messy hair and emerald eyes under his huge eyebrows. "What the hell was that, England? That... That... That-"

"What was what, America? Can't you pronounce a phrase properly anymore?"

"If I can't, then it is your fault." The younger said, bitterly.

The Englishman flinched.

Somewhat happy with the other's reaction, the taller blond continued. "I was talking about your attitude in that meeting. You can't force me to like what you like or do what you want, England!"

"Now that's preposterous! Who said anything about forcing you, lad?"

"Oh yeah? Then explain to me just what the hell you were thinking! To take charge of my meetings as if I'm not there? To decide what's best for my country? To choose who I can or can't to talk to? This is my country, England! These are my lands! These are my people and those are my responsibilities!"

"Responsibilities? What in the King's name are you talking about, boy? You have no responsibilities, meetings nor choices because you are still a child!" The older nation smirked mockingly as he said the next words. "What did you expect, liberty? Freedom? Independence?"

"Maybe I did." That immediately shut the mouth of his caretaker. "And maybe I still do."

The following minutes were heavy with a tense silence.

"Now now, America. Don't go saying foolish things-"

"Since when did things like freedom become foolish? Freedom is a right of every individual! I shouldn't be subjected to your orders! I shouldn't be your colony! I..."

However, the younger nation suddenly stopped shouting when he saw the look on his caretaker's face. His eyes were red, his lips were quivering and he was shaking. He was next to crying. America never saw England cry. And he never wanted to see it.

"England... England, I'm sorry. I was angry and I said too much. I... I don't want to leave you, England." That brought a smile to England's yet quivering lips and he relaxed a bit.

With a voice still shaky, the older nation responded. "Of course... Of course you don't want to!" A relieved laugh could be heard. "And I don't want that either." Those last words were said with a very sober expression, which tensed the young man.

"I don't want to leave you, England." He gulped. "But please understand that I have obligations. Obligations that I would gladly abide to for the sake of my people! Please, let me make my choices! I need your guidance, not your dominance!" Those words stabbed his caretaker and America knew it.

"Again with this conversation? How many bloody times do I have to tell you, boy? I'm merely helping you!"

"That's not helping! You are controlling me! That is all it will ever be: control. Control over your colony. Control over me!" The young man was next to tears. He needed to explain. England had to understand. Otherwise...

The Brit wasn't listening anymore. His thoughts were in the set of words uttered by his colony that intrigued him. "Dominance? Control? Liberty? Freedom? Independence? Where did you learn these words, America?"

Another gulp; another tense silence.

How could he explain that England wasn't the only one visiting him? How could he explain that he kept conversations with his caretaker's enemies and became inspired by their speeches? How could he explain that a part of him wanted to be free of England and another wanted to be forever by his side? And how could he explain that both parts didn't want to be England's little brother anymore? Before he could formulate his doubts, cold words interrupted his train of thought.

"You've been talking to France, haven't you?"

Both nations quickly changed their expressions: one with fear and another with anger.

"America. Answer me."

Sapphire orbs lifted from the ground and locked with cold emerald ones. England's eyes were never cold whenever he was with America - the boy knew it. As the boy would look up, warm and beautiful emerald eyes would greet him. But now, as he looked down, he only saw coldness and hurt in those eyes.

.

"About Angleterre... He is only nice with you, young Amérique." At first, those words from France brought happiness to the boy. But the following words quickly gave him sadness.

"That's why he will never let you get out of his sight. You shall always be by his side as his little brother. Like a caged bird non, my dear Amérique?"

.

"Yes. And he was right. I will always be your caged bird, won't I?" The bitterness in his voice as he addressed England scared both nations. He had a feeling this bitterness would last for a long time. "I'm sorry, England. I tried. I really tried. But if you won't understand... If you won't let me be free... I will no longer be your or anyone's colony. I will be my own free nation."

This was his worst fight with England, one that might separate them forever. "And even so... I choose independence."

The older nation's eyes duplicated in size as he started shouting at his colony, red faced with rage. "You... You ingrate brat! You stupid git! All I ever did was for your sake!"

Ignoring a part of him that wanted to apologize for everything said, a part that wanted to hug his former caretaker and tell him that everything would be all right, the young nation maintained his firm stance and said coldly.

"Goodbye England."

The shorter blond stopped shouting and looked bitterly at the taller blond. With a somber expression, he leaned in. His voice wasn't above a whisper.

"Don't think I'll let you go this easily." A shiver went through America's spine but the younger nation didn't budge.

As he watched his ex-caretaker walk away, he knew one thing for certain. His relationship with England would never be the same.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their final fight, America and England prepare their army to fight with each other. It is the beginning of the end. Preparations starting!

"Enough!" The shout echoed through the room and the highest officers shrieked. The source of the voice came from a blond and slightly short man who looked quite threatening, but it was the fact that he was a nation - their nation in fact - made it all the more threatening. Their nation was currently fuming with anger and the humans knew it wouldn't be wise to speak.

In all their history together with their leader, the officers have never seen him in such a state. Not even when he had to fight his own brothers for territory, much less fighting Spain or France. Never before had England been so emotionally invested in a battle. This fight was personal and they knew it.

"How many bloody times must I repeat myself? Can you not understand this strategy?" A moment of silence reigned since no one dared speak. "Fools!" A set of maps fell to the ground at the nation's outburst. Another nearby soldier quickly set up the set again as the nation continued fuming.

"For the last time, the battle shall begin by tomorrow morning and continue through the day. At nightfall, we will return to camp in order to review our strategy of the next morning. Is that understood now, gentleman?" With a calmer tone, the nation met serious expressions and various nods, followed by many "Yes, sir!"

For them the term gentleman was still new and the superior officers who knew about the identity of their leader believed it would soon cease to exist for England would never stop being a pirate with short temper. They would go along with whatever their leader decided. Fighting their colony would be no exception.

It would be quite a loss to lose such great lands, products and workers but they - and their nation - have tried it all. There was no use to stand a rebel colony. They'd understand when they lost, of course. So was the headset of all the soldiers, as they started to march in the direction of the battle. At the front lines, the British gentleman led with a somber expression.

"This war will be for his own good. America... If you won't understand, I will shoot you."

.

"March! March!" At each other sent by the captain, the soldiers immediately changed their actions. Thousands of soldiers were in the field, training under a very tight schedule. The young nation could feel their pain and sweat, but it would all be worth it.

"So, what de ye think?" The loud voice came from a tall man with white hair and crimson eyes. "I swear, after me training, yer men gon be ready. When me awesome self saw them the first time, I thought they were a bunch o'a ladies, fer Gott's sake!" At that America frowned. "But don'tcha worry, ye colony, after all of thet shit is done, ye be free!" Yes, free. Freedom, it was the reason why they were all fighting.

"Ye really gotta have them balls to fight yer island-bruder. Eyebrows is tha shit! After the incredible me is done here, ye'll have a chance at least! Kesesese..." Dammit, again with that infuriating laughter! Really, what was so awe inspiring about this nation? Well, he was helping him so America decided to make no comment, even if it was only for his own personal revenge. One thing he made sure to remember: when he would be a free nation, he would be a hero and definitely more "awesome" than Prussia. As the older nation disappeared from sight - probably to yell at another soldier - he took a last glance at the field.

The sky was cloudy and a storm would be in the way. In this quiet alone moment, America indulged himself if his only reason to be free was only that. Why lie? He knew it wasn't. He was fighting for himself as well, so his ex caretaker could see him as an equal, someone worth trusting. He was doing this for England as well. So he could protect him. But would England ever understand? Would he ever allow America to call him "Arthur" again?

A few drops fell in his face. The soldiers were already retreating and taking their utensils for tomorrow's next training. The blue-eyed blond stayed a little longer in the rain. Rain was a trait of England, the so-called rainy country. Maybe everything would be okay.

As the drops got heavier and it was now pouring, the young nation decided to leave with his soldiers, waiting for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the Revolutionary War approaches! And yes, Prussia has an accent in this one.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks entwined with the present story.

Loud footsteps could be heard in the house as young boy ran quickly. As he arrived at the office, gasping for breath, his caretaker quickly turned around and went for his aid. The boy was crying and panting while holding something in his hands. As he opened it, a small bird could be seen. One of the wings was clearly broken and the other lacking feathers. The animal was in pain but it would get better, England thought.

"Is it… is it dying, England?" The young boy was next to tears now.

"No, it isn't, America. It is just hurt. Give him a few weeks and he will be as good as new." That instantly brought a smile to his face and the tears were long gone.

As the boy was now finding something to place the little bird in for the next few weeks he would be tending to it, England would watch and eventually assist him to find something more proper when America picked an old wood box. It was no secret the boy loved animals. He would constantly go outside and play with bunnies or even with bulls, for England's despair. But when he would see that bright smile in the youth's face, nothing would be wrong. Nothing could be wrong. As long as America smiled…

.

Loud gunshots could be heard in the air as the American army ran quickly to stand in its positions while the English continued to shoot. As he arrived at the front of his troops, gasping for breath, America was watching the field. It had been weeks of shooting. The battles became longer and longer and none of the armies retreated yet. Many of his men were already dead and there was no time to retrieve their bodies for a proper funeral. Although they were still in majority, his men were tired and sleepless. Watching his bleeding army, America wondered if he too was reaching his limit.

The mud in the soil from previous rain slowed their movements. The air was filled with gunpowder and smoke while the enemies hid themselves in the mist. The young nation was blinking furiously to adjust his eyes to the mist. His eyesight kept getting worse by each day and America wondered if he would eventually go blind. Quite ironical even, since he mocked England whenever the older nation couldn't read small letters. With a frown, he tried to forget those memories. Those were memories he would never be able to relieve, no matter how much he would want. But it didn't matter, he would constantly remind himself, it didn't matter because he needed to be free. Freedom. A concept England could not understand, for the young man's grief. Forget. Forget everything. The memories, happiness, sadness, angry, grief, England-

A loud thunder brought him back from the memories. The nation looked up and saw the roaring dark sky. In the beginning was only a possibility, but now it was near. It would rain. Whenever it rained he would go back to that day. The day he realized he had feelings for England, his caretaker.

.

"Rain, rain, go away… Go away, rain…."

Today was raining again. America frowned in utter displeasure as he imagined all of today's activities fade away, with him trapped inside his own house. He hated whenever rained since he wouldn't be able to go out of the house, do the chores, spend time with the animals or just simply lie in the fields while gazing at the clouds happily. For someone as energetic and young as the colony, staying inside was like a punishment. The only thing that made his punishment bearable today was England, who was staying over during a fortnight. He would gladly complain about the rain to England, but he remembered rain was usual in the older nation's country, so he made a note to never comment on it.

As the teenager sensed England coming near, he stopped murmuring his wishes for the rain to stop. He turned and met a sad smile with dull green eyes. America, fearing he may have hurt his caretaker's feelings with those words, quickly opened his mouth but was interrupted by England.

"I hear you hate the rain, boy? That is fine." Answering his own question with a sigh, England continued. "You know, when I was younger I didn't like the rain very much either. The rain destroyed my weak buildings and the thunders always scared me when I was left alone in the forest."

America knew he shouldn't ask, but he always wanted to know about England's mysterious past since his older brother never told it.

"How come you were always left alone?"

England inhaled a breath and looked at the young nation with sadness and remorse overflowing from his eyes. The emotion in them was so intense… America could only gulp.

"Differently from you, America, I didn't have kind older brothers. I still don't." Those last words had been barely audible.

"But I am still left alone when you go away, England!"

With a sigh and another sad smile, the Brit said. "It is different, America. My brothers couldn't care less about me. But I care deeply for you, my dear young brother, and I try my best to return as soon as possible to you."

America didn't know how to respond. Whenever England would mention his older brothers, always with so much hurt in his face, all the youngster knew was that he wanted to make England happy. As much as he wanted to know about England's childhood, it also hurt to hear what his brothers did to him. But England was always so kind to him; he would never have imagined the older blond had suffered so. England, who shared a mutual hate with his older brothers, but who also deeply loved America as a younger brother.

As a younger brother only.

Whenever England said those words and smiled, it made America's heart ache, with a share of happiness and sadness: happiness for England's love, but also sadness for how he addressed him. Lately, whenever England would address him as a brother, he felt an irrational rage. Why would he feel that way? Wasn't England his parent, his caretaker, his mentor, his brother? In the end, none of those names were appropriate for the colony. In the last decades, America had searched for many terms to address England, but found none. The closest he had ever come to find an acceptable one, England was clearly displeased so America decided to give up on that unknown word, the word lover.

Now, however, that term was constantly on his mind, like a buzz. Whenever he would think about England, which was quite often, his mind would instantly make the connection. He could barely talk to England without remembering the word now, and much less when he was stealing glances at the older nation at every opportunity to memorize his features for when he would be gone once again. Today was England's last day at his house as he would probably visit another colony, a thought that made America bitter. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for his question. This would probably the last chance he would have, and he had to make sure how both he and England felt.

"England?"

Said nation slowly turned his head from the window to face the colony, wearing a small but honest smile. Noticing the intensity of America's gaze and the youth's serious expression, England stayed quiet while waiting for what he hoped not to be what he feared. Sadly for him, it was exactly that.

"England… How do you feel about me?"

"I love you, of course, dear America." The older blond answered with another smile, hoping it would be enough of an answer. By the frown on the younger's face, he realized it wasn't.

"No. I mean… What kind of love?"

Ah. Of course he would ask that question. England feared for this day but he had no preparation whatsoever, because he firmly believed that wouldn't happen with his America. With a sigh, he answered: "I love you as a brother, America." Seeing the hurt look on the colony's face, he added. "Surely you know that?"

The teen shook his head as his eyes were glossy and with a shaky voice, he answered. "I- I know that you love me as a brother, England. But I don't. I- I don't love you like that, England. I just don't." Taking a deep breath England, I love you like a lo-"

"Stop it right there! Don't say something you'll regret, America! What you're going through is just a phase. You obviously love me as a brother, as I love you, you are just confused. And that's okay. You are still very young, America. This is only a misunderstanding, I am sure."

America couldn't believe it. Of all the reactions he expected, that had been one he deemed impossible. He expected disgust, rage, even indifference, but never this. He never expected to not be taken seriously in such a serious matter for him.

"Listen, America. I understand what you are feeling. I'm older and have more experienced, so it's normal if you feel dependent on me. I- I also felt that way once, when I was younger. Even in the midst of everything, I admired an older nation, but it wasn't love. I won't tell you who that frog- I mean, nation was. What you feel for me is admiration and that is normal, after all you are my colony and absolutely dependent to me. Do you understand, America?"

There were no words to express the shock the younger nation felt. He didn't know how to respond, politeness be damned, about such a stupid predicament. What he felt for England definitely wasn't just admiration, it was something much more powerful, and who made him helpless and sleepless at night. He may be a colony, but he was not dependent on England. He was his own nation and could take care of himself, even though England never acknowledged that.

The conversation ended at that. Taking America's silence as a reply, England left the room to continue packing his belongings while America stayed still in the same room, gazing idly at the rain pouring furiously outside. While watching the rain and hearing England humming some of his songs, America finally understood his feelings and with that, great sadness came over him. He understood he loved England as a lover, and not as an older brother, but he also knew his caretaker would never look at him like that. Not while he was still a colony.

America tried a few more attempts at the subject, always trapping England with his affirmations of how it would never be a phase or just simple admiration as England always denied it and ended the conversation abruptly. Not only that, England started taxing high all of his merchandise and he forbid America to enter in contact with any other country, much less engage in business with them. His people were angry and he was also angry. He wanted to prove desperately that he was his own nation and could take care of his own obligations, but England always looked at him as a child.

The last drop had been at their meeting. England had another of his meetings but he didn't ask for America's opinion on anything at all, even though it was about his lands and products. America felt everything he accumulated for years in that one instance as he stood up and started yelling at England and everyone present about what should be his decision, and his only. He had never seen England so displeased in his whole life.

They walked out of the meeting and that fateful conversation brought them to their current situation. He was fighting for his liberty, for his independence, while England was fighting against it. England was now his enemy. He was the enemy he had trained for months to fight. The enemy he would have to at least hurt to obtain what he wanted. Even though America knew he'd already hurt England before this war even started.

.

Ironically enough, the rain had been his best ally till now. With the help of the rain and Prussia's military techniques, the tables were slowly turning. The American army now had a chance to win this war, however small it might be. America leaded his army as they made the enemy retrocede, trapping the individuals at the front line with surprising ease. However skilled England could be, even while fighting with mud at his feet and rain blinding his moves, his army was not.

They were now in lesser numbers and some even ran away, realizing they were being led to trap. Everything started moving faster, blurry scenes and loud shouts surrounding America as he watched vague color of the uniforms being covered by a rain, pouring hard. They were going to win. He could feel it. He could taste the freedom.

.

"America, you shouldn't hurt yourself by doing such a mere task. Leave those to me, all right? You are still young and therefore, you should enjoy yourself by playing in the fields, not stuck in a dark room. I am sure you know that." England finished bandaging the young boy's knee. The blood was nearly dry now.

The colony turned his head to shuffle a cry and frowned deeply. He was ashamed of falling after reaching for one of England's favorite book, which was located in the highest shelf of his caretaker's study. Such a simple, mere task and he failed it. More tears were threatening to leave, so he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to stop them. He tried to get up and leave but his leg was still aching and he found himself unable to move. The last thing he wanted to see was England's disappointed face.

America flinched when he felt warm arms embrace his tiny body. He gazed up and looked at England's serene smile, much unlike the expected look of disapproval, and he felt his own face change as he gave a warm smile. Soon he was hugging England back, not too strong as he recalled an embarrassing incident when he hurt the older nation, while appreciating the warmness and comfort those arms always offered him. One of the best things America had ever experienced was England's hugs, smiles and kisses. That almost made up for the Brit's poor cooking skills, which America only knew because of France's hints when the flirty nation visited.

"I'm sorry, England. I just wanted to help you." The colony said after calming down.

"It is fine, dear America. I know that." England held him tighter and then released his hold on the young boy. He smiled as he said the next words. "But you shouldn't worry about that, my dear brother. Play as much as you'd like, for I shall protect you."

America was grateful for those words and smiled to England. The older nation got up and kissed the colony's forehead before he started collecting the forgotten books on the ground. As America watched England's bent back, another thought crossed his mind. Said thought would be one who would originate many others through the centuries. "But I want to protect you as well."

.

England was alone, surrounded by the American army. His soldiers had left after sensing their imminent defeat but he remained to fight. The red uniform was a contrast with the darkness of the sky and ground. The only thing America could hear was the loud beating of his heart and his ragged breath as England was the only thing he could see. He would win, he knew that. He just hoped his ex-caretaker also knew it.

In a swift movement, England launched himself at America and the younger reacted by instinct, holding his own musket as a shield. England was quicker. With another motion the musket was thrown into the air and landed soundly far from them.

"You idiot! Why can't you carry anything through to the end?"

America was disarmed while England pointed his musket at him. However strange it might've been, the young nation wasn't afraid. He knew England would never shoot him, as much as he may deserve it. As he looked the older nation, who was breathing heavily with a hurt expression, he reminded himself of the freedom he would have. He was ready for it.

With a sigh, England retracted his musket and looked at America with another sad smile as he let his arm drop to the ground.

"There's no way I could shoot you."

That moment would be stored in America's heart forever. As he watched England kneel himself and cry, he realized maybe he wasn't ready for everything. That had been the second time he saw England crying and it took every fiber of his body not to give up on anything and hold him tight. He swore he would never be England's reason for crying when he was little and now here he was, being the exact reason. England had always been amazing. He was an older nation who cared for America and knew so much, he taught America everything he knew before the Revolution. England had been more than a parent or older brother could ever be. He had been the most important person in his life, one he swore to protect, but how could he protect someone who only saw him as a child? For the first time in his life, he realized how tiny England really was. His ex-caretaker was just another nation such as himself, with nothing more and nothing less.

"You used to be so big."

The hurt look England shot him while still crying was enough to make the now ex-colony turn around and leave him in the raining field. Now they would both hate the rain.

.

"Congratulations on your victory, captain!"

America only smiled politely at another of his officers while his leader continued to make eloquent speeches about today's first victory of many. His leader was the only one who knew about his real identity and he gracefully kept their secret. Frowning inwardly, the young nation realized he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself when England's face was constantly on his mind. He tried frantically to forget about those thoughts. They were nothing now and he knew it. But the pain in his heart still lingered in the middle of the party atmosphere.

He felt a hand brush his shoulder and as he turned the smell of alcohol quickly invaded his nose. It was Prussia. He couldn't really be mad at the nation since he helped him train until now. He tried to retract as he spotted France and Spain among his soldiers, but he was too late. The Bad Trio had surrounded him.

"So, I hear yer your own nation now, huh? Good fer yeh, kiddo! Of course, ye'll never be as awesome as meself! Kesesese…" Prussia's accent was even stronger when he was drunk, America realized.

"You are now an adult non, Amérique? Perhaps you would enjoy a few… activities with moi?" America frowned and leaned out of France's touch. Now he knew why England hated him so much. He tried once again to forget about it since England was now a forbidden subject, never mind how many times he thought of him after the battle.

As he was leaving the increasingly drunk trio, France's last words before the blond left to discuss more of the new continent's land with Spain, lingered in America's mind.

"Celebrate, Amérique! You are no longer caged to Anglatérre, just like you wanted!"

America turned his head and eyed his surroundings. His fellow soldiers were celebrating while drinking and singing through the room with happy expressions as his leader started to discuss new economy plans with other countries and the design of their new flag. This had been everything he had been fighting for. He earned his freedom and the nation of America was created, no longer a colony. This had been everything he always wanted.

But the young nation had another realization. There was something missing. He didn't have anything he ever wanted because someone wasn't there with him, smiling or hugging him. As he realized he would probably never again see England's smile, much less feel that warm when he was embraced by the older nation or see the love England once held for him, he felt an immense happiness, but also sadness, overflow him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in England's POV.

I loathe you. You are the one person I despise the most, never mind that damn frog or my stupid brothers. The one I detest…. that can only be you, of course. Because you are the one who broke my heart. It's ironic to think that, since I sometimes doubted I even had one. My life has never been the kindest, nor has my family or so called Allies, and that built my character ever since I was a young and lonely nation. Everything and everyone weren't reliable and trust was as relative as the weather my country is known for. I didn't trust any single nation. I never did. From my childhood I knew nothing could be trusted, aside from some of my beloved magical friends.

Why should you open your heart and lands just so another nation can take it all away from you and leave you alone? Leave that to the weak ones.

But then I met you and all of my resolve was for nothing. You weren't supposed to be special or different at all. I had my fair share of colonies, even if not as much when comparing to France or Netherlands, but they were useful and that was all. You were going to be just another colony, another landmark, another place who offered products to my people and me. But that would never be enough for you now, would it?

From the first minute you demanded attention, a trait I actually appreciated when you were younger and a trait that annoyed me when you got older. My life resolve and my coldness for every nation crumbled away when I saw you chose me, the ruthless and cold England who every nation feared and hated, instead of that stupid frog (who did have good food, I'll admit). Right at that time, when you chose me, you were already different. You were special.

Of course, I was surprised by your strength; you nearly gave me a heart attack the first time you threw that bull - but what really surprised me was your heart: you were so incredibly pure, my dear America, that I knew I would choose to protect you with my life. Even though you proved to me endless times you didn't need my protection.

My dear America, the angel who accepted me and loved me unconditionally, where are you? Why is there someone else in your place, a cold and judgmental you, who forgot everything about me? As I watch you every single time you are the head of your own meetings or simply making business with other countries, I can never bring myself to look you in the eyes, much less talk to you. I am afraid of what I will see once I look at those beautiful pieces of sky. Will it be love or hate?

We don't see each other anymore. We don't talk, we don't comment on any trivial matters, we don't smile, nor do we laugh in each other's presence. There is only tension and serious, intent expressions. Ah, how much I want to see you again. Not you, the United States of America, but my dear America.

But in the end I realize, you two are the same. You grew up and left. Like a bird. Many times I had such comparison, you were like a bird: young, always singing and eager to fly. And I, your terrible owner, was afraid to give you freedom to fly. I kept you hidden, caged with every power I could muster.

The first time I ever thought of such thing was when you found that poor bird with a broken wing near your house. We helped it back to its feet and soon enough, it was flying. You became so close to that bird, watching it at every hour and feeding it too much to be healthy, as I said it to you. When it was ready to fly, it simply took off, without a single goodbye and it was gone. I expected to see you cry or at least frown, since you cared so much for that bird. The only expression I saw after that was a smile. After being asked why you were smiling after a loss, your words truly marked me.

"Why should I be sad? A bird has to fly, right, England?"

Ah, that is indeed true. A bird's occupation is to fly, like you said, America. And so would be yours, I came to realize. As much as I tried to keep you from the world, from knowing the indifference and evil lurking outside, from being hurt and broken numerous times, such as I've been, it didn't work. In the end, you preferred to fly away and see the world by yourself.

I understand it. I really do, America. You are too bright to keep up with me: an old, broken and cynical nation such as myself. You should fly as far away as possible, but not too near the sun, and never come back. Only then I can deal with my losses. Only then I can stop trying to hide my tears every time I see you smiling at another nation and frowning at me. Only then I can try to forget you, even though that's impossible. After all, how could I forget you? You, the first nation I have ever truly loved and cared for. You, the first nation I have ever come to hate so deeply and still can't stop loving you either.

In the story, you are the bird, who should fly away and never come back. And I am the evil magician, who should be left alone forever. Become one of the heroes you have always loved so much. But remember that I am a villain and as such, you should hate me, just as I hate you. The one I detest… That can only be you, of course. Because you are the one who broke my heart. So let me think I also broke yours, my dear America.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to third person POV for the rest of this story. Only one more chapter to go!

"Absolutely not! There is no way I would ever accept such irrational request, by the Queen's name!" The blond man stood up from his chair, fuming while surrounded by the group of seemingly much older men. One of them came to the front and said:

"Lord Kirkland, please reconsider it. The young Mister Jones is already independent, aside from name and he doesn't wish to have any sort of bound to us anymore. It is indeed a terrible loss concerning our stocks of minerals and plantings, not even mentioning the blow for our economy! But we have unfortunately lost the war and it is time to accept it. Other European nations have already signed the treaty and see America as an independent country, such as Franc-"

"And that's another reason why I should not accept such thing. If that frog wants to seduce the newly stupid independent nation, let him do it. None of these subjects concern me any longer."

Loud murmurs were heard through the room and the men were perplexed with shock.

"Lord Kirkland, your language! The most important political figures are in this room and we request you-"

"You kindly request me, your superior, to express my opinions concerning the subject at hand and that is exactly what I am doing." Another cold remark escaped the young lord lips as he gazed each and every occupant in the room.

Before he could continue on, however, a messenger stood in the entry and requested lord Kirkland's presence to the Queen, who wished to see him. That was an indirect double pleasantry, England thought to himself, he was free of another idiot meeting and was now in the way to see his beloved Queen once again. She would be pleased to know of his new conquests and treasures in her honor.

The room was eerily silent after the nation's departure. After a silent consensus, a decision was made.

.

"Mister Jones, have you heard the good news? America is now acknowledged as an independent country, can you believe it? Took those limeys enough time!"

America quickly stopped his monotonous task after hearing about it from his secretary and in a rush; he went to his boss's office and requested to see the letter. He could barely believe himself. If England signed it, then they could still retain their bonds, start over. There was a future for them, even if America would be independent for his people's sake, and the young nation was trembling with excitement.

But as he held the letter and analyzed it, he knew it was a lie. The letter was truthful, of course, members of the Parliament had signed their names and it even had one from the Queen. But his eyes were glued to a single signature, one of a Lord Kirkland. If one wouldn't know better, one would think it was definitely his signatures. But America knew. He always observed England when the nation wrote and he remembered every single loop, every single line and he knew that wasn't England's signature.

Forcing a smile and trying to appear as enthusiastic as before, America went back to his office while he listened to everyone's comments about the treaty. He was independent in name now, not that it would change much. He had already been his own nation for some years and a letter wouldn't change a thing about it. As he returned to his previous task, he tried to forget that one signature. The sign of how their relation had ended in an irreparable way.

.

The loud shouts of the crew and the crash of the waves in the strong wood that adorned his ship were the best sound he could hear now. When he was aboard his favorite ship, Elizabeth, England truly felt free. He was capable of doing anything and the world belonged to him. After all, who would fear the mighty captain Kirkland, ruler of the Seven Seas? He managed to overthrow the Spanish Armada and was currently the most prominent country in navigation. Forget about France and his infinite colonies, he would have so much more. Forget every single nation in the world, for they were of no use. That's why he loved humans. They had a very short life spam so it was impossible to hold a grudge for them after a century, except a few individuals.

One by one, he was taking care of his precious colonies. He would teach them everything they needed to know and protect them from evil purposes…. His purposes were of the utmost kindness, after all… without making the same mistake again. He would not indulge them with freedom and if they'd eventually fight for it, he would be more strict and firm. If, in the small probability they won, he would simply let go. There was really no need to worry so much about a nation… all rebel colonies were spendable after all. Even he, England reminded himself with a smirk.

"Captain, where are we heading?"

He thought of his young colony, with the best of spice, raw materials, and silk one could get. Flashes of a beautiful young woman with tanned arms covered by delicate sleeves of exotic dresses and a soft but firm posture. His favorite, he assured himself as he tried to forget two pieces of blue sky.

"India, First Mate Smith." The captain answered with a smile.

.

There truly was no place like home. Whenever he worked in the fields with his fellow people and helped them with his impressive strength, America felt at home. He liked to work with his boss and help as many people as possible with his decisions, but he felt much more comfortable in the countryside, surrounded by nature and simplicity. There he could forget he wasn't a normal human and would only spend his days acting as one. With time, he found himself more and more going back to the countryside. He didn't want to visit other nations more than necessary; he believed his home was everything he needed.

Everything he ever needed, he reminded himself when he recalled the sensation of his ex-caretaker's hand in his head and soft singing while both lay in the field in his childhood. If he would open his eyes, he knew there would be no one near him, much less England, of all people. But for just a few seconds he would pretend he was there. He was there for him as an adult and the English nation wanted for once to deliberately spend time with him and be with him, more than anyone else.

For just a few seconds, he would pretend he had everything he ever needed in his home and there was no need to leave. To reach for something he lost decades ago and would never get back, to try again and again to repair something so broken like they had together. There was no need to indulge with the impossible.

.

"Look at his smile! Look at this bastard's happy face, France!" Prussia, who was also drunk, laughed loudly as he put an arm around the now drunk English nation's shoulder. Spain was laughing as well; amused to see England in such a state, while France merely nodded with a vague smile while sipping more wine.

"Mon ami, the rosbif is always in this sad state when he drinks. He's been this way for a few centuries, non?" The French nation asked for no one in mind, since he was the only one who saw England drunk a little bit more frequently, for his horror.

"Hey Prussia, what happened with your accent?" By the Spaniard's slurred way of speak, it was clear he was also drunk.

"Pff, that old thing? You gotta get used to the new, Spain! Of course, when you are as awesome as I am, there is nothing to worry about!" Both of them started laughing loudly for no apparent reason and were soon leaving for the bar to get more drinks.

France and a very drunk England were left at the table. As the English nation drifted away from his happy drunken stage and started sobbing slightly, France realized he was in the fourth stage of his drunkenness: cry and call other nation's names. He wasn't sure why he felt a little sad when he discovered America had taken his place in all of England's rants and cursing, even though he hated those. The way England cried over America as if everything was over made him slightly annoyed and sad. They weren't always enemies and France did care for England, but that sentence would never leave his lips.

Sighing loudly and forgetting about these sad thoughts… That would surely take away his beauty. France helped England stand up and go to his house before the Brit managed to stumble to the ground and started crying loudly while asking why he, America, let him fall so hard. At least in more than one way, both realized. France sighed once again as he saw Prussia and Spain leave with another loud group and looked at England, being a mess and still in the ground. This was going to be a long night.

.

"I heard you, boss. They're starting another war, right?" America managed to speak while munching on an awful lot of food to be considered polite while looking at his president. The secretary quickly reprimanded him.

"Mister Jones, please eat with your mouth shut. And yes, there will be another war in Europe, but the majority of our analysts believe this war will be the biggest they ever had. It might affect us as well."

The young nation snorted while grabbing freshly made bread from his pocket. "I doubt their little fights will get all the way across the ocean to us. Just let them fight for their territories, and we'll support them by giving products, like always." He continued to eat and talk at the same time, pointedly ignoring the previous lecture.

"I believe this isolationist policy of ours will soon be over, Alfred."

Now he stopped and listened. His president rarely spoke in such a tone with him, unless he was greatly upset. America chanced a look at his boss and realized he was very serious. America left the bread at the table, stood up and gazed firmly at his boss.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Europe will enter in a very big war, perhaps the biggest we have ever seen. They already have the main countries Germany and France, ready to fight each other after all of this superficial peace we've been through. I don't believe we will be able to maintain our policy in such situation. We may stay neutral, but not for long."

Another official went to the front and continued to explain.

"Germany is currently allied with the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which is extremely powerful, and France has England's alliance, which saved him from isolationism forced by Germany. They are also allied with Russia after the Balkan turn of events."

America stood quietly as he heard the rest of the speech. He knew how those two nations would often argue and even fight violently sometimes, but he also knew they stood up for each other if a brig crisis came. This war must have been huge, then, America concluded. True enough, he continued the isolationist policy through decades and he didn't plan to change it now. He didn't want to connect with other nations and feel so much hurt again. England had certainly taught him that.

France and England were strong and America never thought much of Europe's inner struggles. He had decided; he wouldn't join this war.

.

"Anglaterre, please write to him. This is no longer a frivolity as I'd like to mock you with, we need America. We need him if we want to win this war." France said in an urgent and very tired tone.

England merely looked at him. If it were in any other circumstance, he would have laughed at the other nation's appearance: he was pale and had large bags under his eyes, while his clothes were in a terrible state and his so beloved hair was a mess. But now, he knew he was just as bad. He never felt more tired. Wars weren't supposed to be like this, at least not in the old days, that time it was about lands and excitement, but now it was horrible.

After Russia's departure from their team because he had to deal with his own revolution, only he and France were left as the powerful nations in their side. He knew they needed more help, even if he had military help from his colonies and some of their allies in Europe. And in a logical point, he agreed with France. They needed America, who was very close to becoming a super power and had one of the strongest military force he'd ever seen. But he couldn't bear to look at the younger nation's face. He wanted to forget everything and if he saw America again, he didn't know he would react. Would he be angry and feel betrayed? Or would he be utterly happy and pour his heart out to the bespectacled nation and face rejection? He loved America and he knew it, as much as he would deny it. And he also knew America hated him.

As he heard more shouts coming outside their tent, both nations quickly got up and went to aid their troops. He knew there wasn't any more time. He would have to swallow his pride and call for America's aid. It was the only way.

.

"And that's how the hero saved everyone in the end!" The loud statement was followed by an obnoxious laugh as the nations around the tall blonde just rolled their eyes. Completely ignoring the atmosphere yet again, the taller blond just turned to the shorter blond with bushy eyebrows. "Right, England? After all, you were the one who begged me to join this."

The older nation huffed and his scowl furthered, but there was a light tinge of pink in his cheeks. "Git. I only called you because we needed your… kind assistance to end this war. Not that we would lose if you weren't-"He didn't get to finish the phrase as France put a hand around his mouth, laughing nervously.

"Ha ha, Rosbif, you truly make us all laugh! Don't mind this old man, America, he is just as thankful as we all are!" France said in a quick recover. He couldn't allow America to think ill of them now, with their terrible financial situation, even though they won the war.

America merely shrugged and laughed, although a bit restrained. "It's alright, France! This old geezer can't help it that he's so weak!" America widened his eyes when he realized what he just said.

England flinched and every nation stood quiet. The English nation quickly got out of the room, ignoring America's protests, and didn't come back. America laughed nervously and resumed their business conversation, even though his mind was somewhere else. Even after the meeting England didn't come back, and America realized he should stop waiting and just leave.

He messed up again. There was just no way to control his tongue now, was there? He merely wanted to mock England because of the older nation's interesting reactions, but he went too far and now their relationship was strained again. Even though he joined the war for him… That would be incorrect, since there were other advantaged he considered by joining the war, but nevertheless, England's request had been a major point for him. He just wanted another chance to interact with his ex-caretaker as much as possible, ever since he'd left England.

The trainings in the war helped him. He had now a better understanding in big scale wars, different from when he was younger and only Prussia trained him. As painful as it was to stand there and see his men die, he knew the other nations lost many more men than he did, and for that reason he had to stand strong. England had been cold and merciless in the beginning, training him in the toughest way possible, but later he realized it was for his own good. He had never seen a war of this scale. And he hoped he would never see one again.

He hoped he would see England again, though. Their relationship wasn't even near stable, but they could know stand next to each other and sometimes the conversations wouldn't be as awkward. America made sure to never say something insensitive, although it didn't work most of the time. His only advice had been to read the atmosphere and he never found the so-called book.

They would get better, he was sure. They would be able to move on. One day he would be able to talk to England freely about any subject and they would finally be together. Even if not in the romantic sense, something America wanted ever since he hit puberty, now he just longed for England's company, in any form. One day they would be ready.

But they weren't ready right now, so America let out a sigh and finally left the meeting room, walking much slower than normal. If only he'd been there for a few more minutes, though, he could have seen a certain Brit running into the room with a look of regret only to find it empty, and leave with the same look.

They weren't ready yet.


	6. Chapter Six [Final]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

Another terrible meeting, America thought as he turned on the sink and washed his face in an attempt to bring his fever down. He had been sick for weeks.

The meeting was absolutely chaotic and every look was directed at him. He should have expected it. This turn of events shouldn't be a surprise for him, especially him, as his advisors kept reminding the young nation. The nation with the strongest economy after the end of the Great War went through a terrible crisis and practically the whole world was brought in it as well. He had been naïve and impatient and now every single country that had commercial ties with him would also suffer.

After what seemed to be the seventh meeting he held in that week concerning the subject, America sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. His usually tanned skin was lightly paler and he had big bags under his red eyes from lack of sleep, aside from his horrible fever. He certainly wasn't looking his best either. Perhaps it was for the best, so the other countries wouldn't try to pick a fight or poison his food right now. The Great Depression, what a great name indeed.

He decided it would be best to live for the day, and without another look, he went back to the currently empty meeting room and gathered his remaining things when he saw a small package next to his papers. There was no note, but the smell was already an indication: burnt food. Maybe people were trying to poison him, after all. His curiosity won and he decided to take a look at the poisoned food before throwing it away. He gasped when he saw those memorable burnt scones, still warm, neatly wrapped in a smaller plastic bag. There was no mistake; those could only be England's.

America looked around the room trying to search for clues if whether England had forgotten the scones next to his spot, but he remembered the Brit had been assigned to a sit far away from his for the meeting (not that he cared, of course). With another quick glance, he swiftly shoved the still warm package into his bag and got out of the meeting room.

Obviously, he wouldn't eat those scones, since he was still sick and they were probably going to ruin his health even more. But that didn't mean he would just throw them away. In the end, he ate them all.

.

"How many times do I have to say it? This is not my war!" The politicians gulped as their nation rose the volume of his voice, his mood dangerously getting worse. "Sign some treaty or whatever; just make them understand this for once and for all! The United States is not joining another one of their European wars, the last one was enough already."

One of the men meekly said, in an attempt to control the fury of the blonde. "But sir… You see, England and France have declared war on Germany after Poland's invasion and they were counting with more support from their Allies, which includes you, sir." He gulped once more as America glared solely at him.

"England and France can start as many wars as they want, God knows how much they fought with and against each other. It has nothing to do with me, as long as they continue paying me." The nation stood up and looked at each man's face. "Right now I'm trying to do the best for my country, which includes you guys, so let's keep it this way, all right? The boss talked with me already and he agrees."

Before any other comment, America dismissed them all. He knew they should be concentrating on their new isolationism policy, especially after their bad economy. Differently from the last time, he wasn't so sure England and France would be indeed fine, he'd seen Germany's look after they made him sign the treaty. He also knew there were more movements against the government in both Italy and France after the Great Depression, another reason he should concentrate on getting his economy back before helping his allies when he had no money whatsoever.

Yes, America decided, he would not enter another war. The Great War had been traumatizing enough and he was sure things wouldn't escalate into that point ever again.

.

He was wrong. After months of keeping his neutrality… but he did offer discount in his products to England and France? America was rethinking his strategy. The movements he didn't think much of in the beginning had controlled the majority of the government and country, creating a very different Italy and Germany that he had known. He was also very worried about Japan, who decided to join in with the odd duo and was now taking over many islands in the Pacific area. China and Russia had joined the Allies, in an unpredicted move, but England and France were the ones who sent more men and were currently the ones suffering more.

He could barely hear the radio or read the newspaper without feeling anxiety and sick at the horrible images he saw. How could another human being do that with another? How could the nations let them? He knew he had no say in this anymore, like any other nation, and flashes of many conflicts flashed before his eyes making him sicker and he ran to the bathroom. The only thing that somehow relieved him was the thought he hadn't been eating much these last months and there were some rations, but not as strongly as there was in England-

England.

America trembled and felt goose bumps, but not from his past nausea. He hadn't seen England since that meeting so long ago. Any form of contact he had was with too formal letters or requests for treaties, which he always refused. He desperately wanted to see England, especially after hearing about the late attacks that had been running for some days already. He couldn't imagine what it would be to have his capital bombed daily. Canada had seen him and even after being pestered endlessly by him, he only said one phrase.

"You should go see him."

.

For once it wasn't raining in London. But instead of feeling content, sadness was the only thing that the younger could feel right now. The bombings had been brutal. So many buildings were destroyed and people were frantically walking down the streets and bumping into each other, with no time to apologize. They were in panic and America couldn't blame them.

As he made his way into the hospital he knew England was in, America decided to focus on other things in view and try to forget about how much of England's beautiful city had been cruelly destroyed. It was to no avail. Everything he saw screamed England at him and the gray but dry sky only made things worse. This wasn't the London he knew and definitely not the one England had always loved and treasured.

He stopped in front of England's door in the hospital. Despite proclaiming to be a hero, America had been a coward in the most important times and lost many things because of it. His brother had been more of a hero than he was, and so had England. With the shorter and older nation in mind, he entered the door expecting the worst only to be surprised.

England was calmly sitting and reading a book in the empty room when America entered. His gaze quickly went to America and there were a flicker of too many emotions in the older nation's eyes before he averted them from the young nation. America figured he would have to be the one to start the conversation, only to be interrupted by England before he could even say the nation's name.

"Alfred, it's been a while." England said hurriedly, still not looking at his eyes. "How have you been?"

Oh, that's right, he had to use human names. England had always been too secretive about his identity, even with his colleagues. There were times only his boss would know his identity and no one else. Catching up, America answered with a fond smile.

"I've been okay, old man. What about you? I expected to see you complaining about the weather in a crutch, but you seem fine!" He couldn't contain the double excitement he felt about seeing England again and the fact his ex-caretaker didn't seem to have any deep bruises.

"Of course not, git." England scoffed. "Like anyone would be able to do that… Although I admit that Ludwig passed his limits, all right. And the bloody frog only comes here when he wants to skip on a meeting, can you believe it?"

America smiled. Even in these situations, France would still be called a frog by England. Maybe things hadn't changed so much. He seated in the chair closest to England's bed and they talked about seemingly mundane affairs while the real subject was the situation of the War through codes and human names. He learned a bit of what went through the African front and in France from England's very realistic narrative. He couldn't help but cringe when England would mention what Germany or Russia did during a battle or after it, there were things he never went through in the First War, as everyone was calling it now. This was the second biggest war, and had earned the title of Second World War, unfortunately being correct.

He noticed how England would make associations with him and Canada, about their differences and Canada's loyalty while America maintained his bloody stupid isolationism, like England said. The older nation hinted several times about America joining the war and while he still couldn't take a decision now, America was certain he wouldn't continue to be so neutral for long.

America also noticed that while England seemed to be fine by acting as he always did, the older nation seemed to be very uncomfortable with his wounds. He would sometimes shift into a position and after the shortest facial expression hinting at pain, he would return to another position. England hadn't once moved his left arm or hinted at being able to move his toes. Some of his wounds were already in a soft red coloration, even though a nurse told America before that those wounds were cleaned and changed in the morning and night. Sometimes England would lose the line of the conversation and his eyes would darken while his right hand held a firm grip on the sheets. He was in pain and they both knew it. But England would never admit such a thing, especially to America and the young nation knew it.

After an hour, America left the room with an ambiguous declaration about his entry on the war and a vehement get well message to England, who just huffed while blushing. Later the young nation talked with the nurses who addressed England and found out the nation had been much worse than he appeared, as America suspected, and just hearing about how bad England had been on the first days broke his heart. Now he knew why Canada said nothing. How could you explain something so gruesome about someone you cared deeply about?

And with that America left the hospital and continued to go visit England daily. For now, he could only hope the best for his ex-caretaker. After all, wasn't hope the last thing to die?

.

At 7:55 a.m. Hawaii time, a Japanese dive bomber bearing the red symbol of the Rising Sun of Japan on its wings appears out of the clouds above the island of Oahu. A swarm of 360 Japanese warplanes followed, descending on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor in a ferocious assault. The surprise attack struck a critical blow against the U.S. Pacific fleet and drew the United States irrevocably into World War II.

.

The months while he was in the war were one of the worst in America's relatively short life for a nation. Anything he thought he knew before entering the battlefield had proved to be useless as more fights and battles ensued, now in the air. While he appreciated and loved dearly some inventions like the planes, he hated to use them to kill. Planes were created with the sole purpose of flying, of feeling freedom. Whenever America would soar through the sky he would feel truly free, like a bird among many in the blue sky. Fighting and killing innocent soldiers had nothing to do with that.

Once again, the training had been intense and once again, England had been his teacher. As much as America hated to recollect the past events of the Fist War, he could remember how much he suffered to get into soldier shape, mentally and physically, and after long weeks he finally was able to fight on his own.

The war was horrible. What he saw and did would haunt him forever, just like it would hunt every single nation and some humans as well. With so many losses from both sides and the pain he felt each time a loyal soldier died unjustly, be it from his side or the other. There was a pang in his heart. He knew the other nations felt it too, but they wouldn't admit it and would only disregard him as being a rookie and late one at that.

Countering the bad things (which were many), he also had experiencing many good changes while in contact with the other nations. He never felt so close to his brother in the last years as they fought together and protected each other. He felt a bit more intimate with his Allies after so many battles, aside from Russia, and that increased his desire to protect each of them and be the hero. He wanted to protect every one, especially England.

The older nation was visibly healthier than before and as capable as ever; commanding his line of combat while America commanded his over the Pacific. The bond they shared had been the strongest and everyone knew it, including England's boss who made that very embarrassing comment. He couldn't walk down the halls with England anymore without hearing at least once the words special relationship being mentioned. But seeing England blush all the way through his ears every single time, it was worth it. He became fond of the term in a short time.

They were near victory and they felt it. Italy had surrender long ago and after Germany's surrender yesterday, only Japan was left. This war would finally be over. Finally. America held his breath as he braced himself for what would be his last mission in the war. He knew the consequences. England knew the consequences. He couldn't comment or say anything about the matter since words escaped him. This war would finally be over, he reminded himself, as he started the engine and gazed at the bluest sky he had ever seen.

.

It was over. The war had ended.

When those words ringed his ears, America couldn't think straight as the crowd erupted in cheers around the Allies who were gathered around the street. It was over. It was over and there would never be anything like it, he assured himself. He would make sure there would never be something like this ever again.

The shouts of happiness and joy were louder now and many people got out of their houses and hugged people on streets they might not even know the name of. But they didn't care. He didn't care either, America realized, as he started shouting and laughing as joyfully with the crowd, being taken by their eagerness and happiness.

The war was over. They were free. Every single country was once again free from labels and fighting, at least for this single moment, and his chest swelled up in too many emotions the young nation could not even describe. There were so many things he wanted to do and to say, as he felt the cheers from his own people pulsing through his veins and ringing loudly in his ears.

He felt incredibly happy and free, while he ran along the crowd and kept running, searching for something he didn't know himself. After many steps and looking at everyone's faces, he saw what he had been looking for. A shorter man who was, despite himself, smiling so wildly he didn't seem the same person America had seen in the next years. England seemed so much younger and full of life as he smiled brightly at everyone around him - even Francis - and when his eyes locked with America, his smile became wilder and England hugged him.

England hugged him. Before America could even think about the implications and possibilities he had tried to forget centuries ago, his body answered for him. He hugged England back and kissed him fervently in the lips and after that kissed him one more time, not giving them time to think and do another mistake. To his surprise, England answered just as fervently and the two kept each other in a beautiful embrace while forgetting everything, be it the crowd's loud cheers or France's knowing look.

There was nothing else in the world but them and there was nothing more than happiness for America right now. His brightest and happiest dream was coming true in the form of a lovely and beautiful nation he had loved ever since he was young and naïve and free. After so many centuries and after enduring so many hardships, he thought he had finally lost that ounce of freedom he always loved so much, only retrieving it in the short moments he would fly with no restraints through the vast sky, achieving heaven.

After so many centuries, after so many tries and so many mistakes, they were together again and closer than ever. And for the first time after so long, America felt free.

He was no longer a caged bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, let me remind you that this isn't supposed to be a very detailed or highly informative story, so there won't be many mentions of WWII itself or any of the past events - that will happen in a story I'm currently working on and which will, hopefully, be completed someday.
> 
> This is the last chapter of the story, but don't fear, there's still an epilogue to come, situated in the modern days (which will be uploaded tomorrow)! Thank you all for keeping up with this story!
> 
> Fieldings aka LovelyToMeetYou


	7. Epilogue

"Hey England, can we keep it?" America asked with wide blue eyes and a silly pout that reminded England far too much of the past while a small bird chipped in the younger nation's hands. As a response, the older nation merely sighed.

England couldn't possibly understand his current predicament. It all started with one of America's out of the blue invitations and, like always, the older nation had obliged meeting the younger one, not that England minded. After so many centuries of constantly being by America's side, he was already used to his ex-colony's antics and reactions, some England would admit, if only to himself, were still quite adorable. Like, for example, how the American would pout and ask the most childish questions that didn't quite fit with his current age - be it physical or nation-wise.

Even so, America was already a very energetic nation and being young made him all the more eager to do as many activities as possible in a single day while England would have preferred to stay inside and read a good book. Nevertheless, he followed America in what would be the most awesome date of their lives, in America's own words.

As much as England would reprimand the blue-eyed nation and complain, he had to admit the loved every single one of their dates, including their fast food lunches. America was unlike everything he ever knew, as he had always known, but now the younger nation was by far the brightest spot in England's day, and even life. He couldn't imagine himself without America and the memories of their distant days were far away. Now he simply enjoyed America's company in whatever way he could have it, as their time together was short and far apart because of each one's obligation as a country.

Yes, today was about them and their time together and it was America's turn to pick an activity that wouldn't be boring or too energetic for both of them. And as much as the younger nation insisted on spending the whole day comfortably in bed, England denied it with a furious blush and a reminder they should do something more memorable. America frowned, but soon enough grinned when he thought of the perfect opportunity and after not so long, the couple was on their way to a special flight, courtesy of a certain Alfred F. Jones near their area currently in the countryside.

They flew for many hours as America piloted and told stories and little facts about each part of the area they were passing down below while England merely nodded happily and looked at the beautiful scenery surrounding him. America's land was one of a kind. Even after so many centuries, everything was still beautiful and bright, from the soil filled with grass or crops to the blue sky. It was truly a beautiful land. One England once tried to possess but now he knew it wouldn't be for the best - he would probably ruin this pure and raw beauty. Whatever he saw screamed America at him and finally, he was happy with this. All of the pain, sadness and suffering were worth it, since they grew to become better nations and people after everything else.

America's loud voice interrupted his thoughts and England's eyes quickly followed the younger nation's sign indicating they were going to land soon. After the swift and subtle maneuver - which he would not expect from America if he hadn't seen the nation fly in war time - both of them wandered in an open field covered by beautiful flowers in bright colors. From the field they ventured through a close forest that America assured him didn't hold any dangers or wild animals, to which England merely huffed as a response. The pirate that once ruled the seven seas would not fear a beast, which was for sure. What they found, however, was not a beast - or a ghost, for America's relief - but a small fallen bird with brown wings and yellow belly, with what appeared to be a broken wing.

Before England could even think, America jumped at the bird and quickly picked it up in an effort to save the small animal from further pain. The wing was truly broken, as they later examined, and the bird wouldn't be able to fly for a long time. England searched their surroundings trying to find the rest of the birds from the nest, but found nothing. He returned with a frown and after telling America what he discovered, he heard a question he did not expect to hear at all, after so many years.

"Is it... Is it dying, England?" America had the same heartbroken face from that long time ago and it hurt the older nation just the same.

"No, it isn't, America. It is just hurt. Give him a few weeks and he will be as good as new." That instantly brought a smile to America's face and subsequently, England's.

"Hey England, can we keep it?"

With a sigh, the green-eyed nation agreed as America smiled brightly. The younger nation took off his jacket and with it, made a substitute nest for the bird, as means of protection and source of warmth. The careful way in which America treated the small creature made England maintain his soft smile. For others, America didn't appear to be able to take care of something so fragile, but England knew better. America was kind and cared deeply for others, never mind their size.

They were now in their way back to the plane, with America carefully holding the bird comfortably nested in his jacket while England would guide them back and once in a while smile softly at either America or the bird. Everything was so calm, with the singing of birds faraway and America's for once quiet but content tone, which England found himself musing out loud.

"You know, America… this reminds me of a past event when you were a child and once found a wounded bird as well."

America hummed in agreement as he kept watching the bird while England continued.

"At that time… Things were so very different, were they not? I was still very ruthless and you were only a small child that cared deeply for all creatures. I see some things don't change now, do they?" He asked with a soft laugh.

"But some things do change."

America's tone was firm and his face was serious, but not hurt. For England, the sudden turn of subjects in the conversation was surprising, but he didn't find himself angry at the need of fight to keep his tears guarded. There had been too many tears over the centuries. He still felt the already known sadness deep within him, but not the need to fight or cry and he realized America thought the same by the look on his face.

"I mean, it would be weird for us to be together if I was still your colony, y'know?" He asked with a sly grin that hid far too much for England's taste. Over the centuries, the young nation managed to become a strange combination of obliviousness and slyness and whenever he would show that side would always be a surprise for many, England included. Well, nothing that I wouldn't know about, the older nation thought smugly.

Before they could continue their good-hearted bickering, a soft chirp was heard and both heads turned to the creature in the leather jacket. The bird was singing softly but happily and soon enough all of their worries were forgotten. The couple walked back to the plane and took the bird to America's home, where he was well treated - that is, if you forget a certain incident with hamburger poisoning and a nearly fatal flush, both courtesy of America - for a week.

America had insisted in not getting a cage for the bird, because that was the worst sensation of all, feeling trapped, that is. England only nodded in understanding and let it be their way. The bird, now named Sunshine, was always singing through the house and hadn't fallen again even once.

England gazed softly at the now happier bird with the blue-eyed nation as they sang a soft tone together. The bird and America were similar in many ways. They were both a bright addition to life, always sang happily (although he wouldn't call in tune in the case of America) and were utterly free.

Sunshine would eventually heal completely and leave, with England left consoling a distraught America about how every creature must follow its course, like he had once said centuries ago. Only later he would realize that the same lesson applied to him as well and he would eventually have to let America and many others go and follow their own path. That was one of the most painful lessons the nation ever had, but also the most fulfilling.

A caged bird would only find happiness in freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And with this the (quite short) multi chapter story Caged Bird is finished! This was my first long story ever written, way back in 2011 and has been recently edited in July of 2012. I want to thank you all who continued reading this story and gave me support, both here and in other sites! I appreciate every single review you amazing people sent and I will reply to all of them with a smile.
> 
> Hope to see you around for other stories and adventures!
> 
> Fieldings aka LovelytoMeetYou


End file.
